From the moment we met, I knew Dave and I were going to have a fabulous relationship. So fabulous that when the tall, handsome guy from theater class asked for my number, I immediately called my mom.

"Oh, my god," I gushed into the phone. "I just met the cutest gay guy!"

Dave* and I became friends during my sophomore year of college, when he was a freshman. We were two artsy, sarcastic kids majoring in science. When we met, he had been out of the closet for a year and had a boyfriend, and I was excited to explore a friendship with him, given how much we had in common.

As our friendship grew, we became known around campus for being joined at the hip, each enjoying our share of boyfriends and casual hookups. Still, some of my friends worried that I'd fall for him romantically, like some of his previous platonic girlfriends had. "I just don't want you to get hurt," my roommate warned.

I promised her it would never happen. In all the late, drunken nights we'd logged in karaoke bars or innocently in my bed, I'd never developed a crush on Dave.

For the next two years, Dave and I continued as inseparable best friends. We road-tripped together to spend holidays with each other's families. My parents loved him; his loved me. I graduated and began working at our college while Dave finished his final year; we were as happy as ever...or so I thought.

I was casually seeing a guy when Dave began saying funny things like "What if you fall in love and take him home for Christmas instead of me?" I promised Dave that he would come home with me for the holidays no matter what, but he'd say stuff like "I don't want someone else sharing your bed." After weeks of hints, he finally dropped the bomb: "Should we try a romantic relationship?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You're just confused," I said. But inside, I was freaking out.

Everyone had warned me that I was spending so much time with Dave that I was going to fall for him, but it was Dave who was claiming--against all odds--that he had fallen for me. I told him he needed to get back in touch with our campus's gay scene and meet a hot guy. Or as I put it, "Recharge your gay." My friends were right: We were too close.

But Dave wouldn't back off: "What do we have to lose by trying?" he'd ask me. "Everything," I said.

THE EXPERIMENT

After that, I couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate on my work. Sure, I'd always thought Dave was gorgeous, but I'd never thought about him in a sexual way--but suddenly, it was all I could think about. After a few weeks of panicky indecision and avoiding his calls, I agreed to give a romantic relationship a try.

We started slowly: holding hands, cuddling. Soon, we were kissing. A few months later, we were in bed one night and the kissing led to sex. It wasn't planned, but it was perfect.

To my surprise, Dave had no trouble getting turned on by me. (And because he'd been intimate with a girlfriend before coming out, he had a pretty good idea of how to satisfy me.) In fact, hearing him say how natural it felt to be with me made me feel incredibly beautiful and special, like I was the only woman in the world who did it for him.

For a year and a half, we didn't tell a soul about our secret relationship. We wanted to be absolutely sure it had legs before we opened ourselves up to what we knew would be a whole lot of judgment and doubt.

When we finally shared our news with friends and families, they were amazingly supportive. (We'd both grown up in open-minded households.) Sure, there were moments of stuttering disbelief--my mom even asked Dave if he wanted to see a therapist!--but they saw how happy we were and accepted us as a couple.

OUR FUTURE

Dating a gay man has its upsides. (Dave still considers himself fundamentally gay; he's attracted to lots of different types of men but to only one woman--me.) While I wouldn't call myself a slob, Dave basically organizes my entire life. When we're out shopping, he knows when to ask, "Will you really wear those shoes?" He's not just my date to weddings: He helps me pick out the perfect dress and even does my hair. I know some women may prefer a more traditional show of masculinity, but I love Dave as a partner. Straight guys might give their girlfriends flowers once a year on Valentine's Day. Dave gives me flowers every week.

Four years into our unconventional romance, Dave proposed. We are getting married in June and hope to start a family soon after that. And we have just as good a chance of success as any happy couple. Everyone finds themselves attracted to other people--even when they're in a committed relationship--whether they happen to be attracted to women, men, or both. I trust Dave to remain faithful just like any woman trusts her husband-to-be, and I'm making the exact same commitment to him.

For his part, Dave has promised to continue being open with me like he always has, even when the truth may be hard for me to hear. And yes, that includes his opinion of my shoes.